Bonds
by Bloodthirstydemon
Summary: Desperation and a child on the way drove his family to the edge of Ferelden's borders for work. But a chance encounter with a seer unknowingly sets a young Hawke onto his destined path as the Champion of Kirkwall Part 1 of 2. Minor Isabella/M!Hawke


Another "what if" inspiration. It first started out as an explanation on how a mage Hawke's powers manifested as a child. Then I had to think of how to get to that point, and it just sorta took flight from there into this fun little scenario. This is part 1 of 2, with part 2 most likely coming within the next week or two since I'm leaving town in a few days for the next week.

Summary: Desperation and a child on the way drove his family to the edge of Ferelden's borders for work, but a chance encounter with a seer unknowingly sets a young Hawke onto his destined path as the Champion Part 1 of 2.

I own nothing of the Dragon Age franchise or it's characters.

There is minor Hawke/Isabella romance in here, it doesn't dominate the story, but I am a fan of the pirate wench, especially her rivaly romance.

MINOR SPOILER ALERT: key points in the game are talked about

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><p><span>Bonds<span>

He woke from the shifting mattress, hearing a light sigh from behind him as his mother's arm unwrapped around him. Even though the winter season was over, it was still cold enough that he would share a bed with his parents. The candle on the stand next to him burned brightly, meaning it hadn't been long since he went to sleep. Glancing back, he saw his mother sleeping peacefully beside him, but his father was absent.

It had been like this the past week; he would stay with his mother, practicing his letters and reading the new books she got for him while his father went looking for work. They were in Jader, the farthest west he had ever been so that his father could find someone to hire him. His father didn't show it, but he could tell that constantly being turned down was having a toll on him. He was more tired, and smiled less. But his father was stubborn, and he wouldn't stop until he was successful; after all, mother was pregnant.

A month ago she became ill, or so he thought. They found a small village to stay in until she recovered; but the local chantry mother, who acted as a healer proclaimed that she was with child. Both his parents were ecstatic, and he was happy at the thought of having a bigger family. Constantly traveling made it hard for him to make friends. It would be nice to have a brother or sister to play with while on the road. But it also meant that they needed a place to settle the closer his mother was due. Which lead them to their current predicament in Jader. They had enough money for another week in _The Jester's Plight_ before they would have to move again.

His stomach rumbled weakly, interrupting his current train of thought.

_Time for a snack_

Easing out of bed, he grabbed the blankets and pulled them over his mother's shoulders before slipping out the room towards the inn's kitchen. He was caught the first time he went to the kitchen by his father, and he was punished for it. But the inn keeper's daughter Lily had taken a liking to him, and started to leave sweets out for him at night. He had been successful so far, and he hoped it would stay that way until they left. It wasn't every day that strangers showed kindness towards him, and it made him happy; the sweets were just a pleasant bonus at this point. So it became a nightly ritual for him to sneak out and grab some cookies while his parents were either sleeping or otherwise distracted.

He stopped at the corner of the common room, hearing several loud voices, conversations jumbling together so it was no longer a language. Cautiously, he poked his head around to get a look. Around a dozen or so people were scattered about the tables, each engrossed in their own circle. His brown eyes scanned the crowd until it landed on a familiar face; or rather a familiar back.

It was the red sash that caught his eyes first, its bright color contrasting against the brown leather jacket he wore. Then the brass of the Chantry's holy imbedded along the jacket's shoulder blades that really gave him away. His father used the guise of a wandering pilgrim of the faith as a cover to protect himself from Templars and the Chantry; one that worked extremely well in his and his family's' favor. Especially when he had the chant memorized from his time in the circle, fully convincing unsuspecting people. Even Revered Mothers. But they still avoided Templars, erring on the side of caution. But the fact that his father had the audacity to casually stroll up and strike a conversation to the very people who hunted apostates like his father always amazed him and awed him. His father wasn't afraid of anything.

But he was afraid of being caught again. Fortunately the Maker was on his side tonight.

Recently a new caravan came into town, run by an old Rivaini woman named Sonya. His father spent the last three days trying to convince her to hire him on as a caravan guard. He kept his magic a secret as always; but his father knew how to fight with just his staff, and he was desperate enough to work as a sell sword to provide for his family. It was a touchy subject with his parents, one his mother did not like; but she knew it was necessary and focused more on his studies to distract her thoughts.

Seeing his father in a heated debate with the irate woman, he took his chance and quickly made his way to the kitchen. He kept his eye on his father until he got to the doorway, thinking he was in the clear.

That was until he saw a blonde blur, felt it crash into him, and hit the ground.

Quickly sitting back up, he looked back at the commons room; no one appeared to take notice to the commotion, their own noises covering up his tumble. He let out a relived sigh; last thing he needed was to get caught while his father was most likely angry already. He turned back to the person in front of him, wincing to himself.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

It was a boy, around his age that sat on his backside, legs sprawled in front of him. He had blonde hair, slightly tanned skin, and all around him cookies were scattered on the ground, along with a single peach between his legs. The boy began to pocket the cookies, but shot him a smile, green eyes sparkling with mirth.

"It's ok. You're here for Lily's cookies too aren't ya?" He smiled back, nodding in acknowledgement. The boy's smile turned into a full out grin, and he offered him a cookie.

"Name's Caleb. And I think that's your da arguing with nana Sonya." Caleb's eye's flicked behind him, towards his father and Sonya. "He's brave; normally people run away after the first try and he's been coming back for days. Some of the others are making bets on how long he lasts."

_Great…it's hard enough to make friends and now father has a reputation..._

Flushing with embarrassment, he accepted the treat graciously.

"I'm Garrett…And we need the money." He mumbled into the pastry

"That's what I've been hearing from everyone. But mum says gramma is set on heading towards Val Royeaux in two days. Business is good this time of year there, noble parties and all that."

That didn't bode well. If they were heading to Orlais then father really was desperate. He had explained that Ferelden was the safest place to be now; after the rebellion the Chantry was too busy to worry about a couple apostates. Heading into Orlais would mean heading into the heart of the Chantry's power. Things must be worse than he thought. It must have shown on his face too, as Caleb spoke up again, "Hey now, don't look like that. I'm sure your da will find other work."

"I'm more worried about my mother. She's going to have a baby, and we need the money so she can stay healthy." Caleb's head bobbed again,

"Heard that too." He sent the boy a withering glance, but he seemed unaffected by it.

"Well you better tell the others that he's not going to quit bothering her then. We need this."

He watched Caleb take a bite from a cookie, chewing thoughtfully while staring at him. He remained this way for several uncomfortable seconds before his eyes lit up, and he smiled.

"How 'bout you get your fortune told?"

_What?_

"What?" he said, voicing his thoughts

"My great-nan Teresa, she's the one who started this caravan, way back when she was young. She can see the future. She's blind now, but she's never wrong."

"I don't know." Truthfully he thought it was stupid. There were a lot of people out there that would try and scam others for profit; his father a prime example.

"Oh come on!" Suddenly Caleb's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, dragging him down the hallway towards the rooms. He was too shocked by the action to resist; he wasn't used to interacting with other children, and was trying to quell the rising panic in his chest. "Seer's are always right, since they have the gift." Caleb added, and suddenly his panic turned to curiosity.

"The gift?" they stopped in front of a door, not far from his own room, and Caleb began fumbling with the doorknob

"Magic."

_That_ was a surprise. The only mage he knew was his father, and he couldn't see the future…maybe she could do magic that his father couldn't. But the opportunity to meet another mage besides his father was one he didn't want to pass up. And it wouldn't be bad if he made a friend in the process. But he was still skeptical about the whole thing, his father's lessons freshly coming to mind.

"Why should I believe you?"

Caleb opened the door, stopping it a crack to give him a crooked smile, his white teeth shining in the torch light.

"What have you got to lose?" the door opened the rest of the way, and Caleb ran into the room, leaving him alone in the hallway "Nana! I got your fruit!"

He stood nervously for a good minute, before he gathered enough courage to peer inside the room. He saw Caleb climbing onto a bed, occupied by a very, very old woman. Her hair was stark white, with gold jewelry braided into to it, pushing it back. Her skin reminded him of old, worn leather jerkins he saw mercenary's wear. She had a dark purple shall draped around her shoulders over her white nightgown, and on her face he saw an unbelievable amount of piercings; in her ears, on her brows, nose, lips, and above her chin. She was smiling at Caleb as he handed her the peach, and patted his head with her other hand.

"Thank you Caleb." She handed the peach to another woman standing off to the side. She was much younger, maybe around his mother's age perhaps. She had light brown hair, tied back with silver jewelry. She too had piercings on her face, but not as much as the crone; only in her ears and a single silver piece on her nose. He saw the similarities between Caleb and this woman, who was most likely his mother; the only difference were the eyes, hers were a deep amber to his emerald green.

The woman noticed him then, and a gentle smile graced her lips. Blushing, he ducked away in the hallway, embarrassed that he was caught staring; but she was pretty.

"Who's your friend Caleb?" he heard her ask. He leaned in to look back into the room, and he saw Caleb still grinning widely.

"That's Garrett. I met him in the kitchen. His da is the one that's been arguing with nana Sonya." At the mention of Sonya the two women chuckled quietly, and he felt himself heat up with embarrassment again.

"Do not fret child. I admire a man who can hold his own against a woman like my daughter." The old woman spoke gently to him. "Sonya hasn't been this worked up in years; there's a betting pool going on for when she finally snaps and breaks something." The woman smiled mischievously "So far I am winning." She motioned at the space next to Caleb on the bed with her hand. "Please come in, it's warmer in here than in that hallway I'm sure."

He eyed the bed cautiously, still feeling a bit out of place with these people. But he didn't feel any hostile intent from either woman; so he slowly made his way to the bed, climbing up and sitting next to Caleb. The old woman's eyes bore into his, the milky sheen to them unnerving him a bit. "My name is Teresa; this is my granddaughter Mila, Caleb's mother. You are here to get your fortune told are you not?"

That sent chills down his spine. Caleb never mentioned why he was here, but she somehow knew. His face must have betrayed his feelings again, since he heard Mila laugh.

"My son likes to bring all his new friends in for a reading." He flushed with embarrassment again, then shot a glare at Caleb for feeling foolish about being afraid. But Caleb giggled right back at him. Squaring his shoulders, he brought himself up to make himself look less nervous than he actually felt.

"He said that you can see the future."

She laughed then, leaning back into her pillows against the headboard.

"So what is it you wish to know? That you will become a mighty knight in a kings court? Or perhaps that you'll become a fearless explorer, finding the lost city of Arlathan and her forgotten treasures?" There was a flair of mirth in her cracking voice, and he could see that she enjoyed entertaining whatever guest Caleb would bring her.

If he were like any other child, the thought of being a peerless warrior would be enough to satisfy him. Though being a treasure hunter would be good, only because it would help his parents stop worrying…But asking about that would be pointless. He may have been interested, but his father would find it foolish; and his mother would agree. And when it came down to it, he was more concerned for his parents than himself. As long as they were safe and happy he would be too.

"I don't care about that sort of thing." He replied.

Her brows rose in question, and he heard her jewelry jingle lightly in her hair.

"Oh? What is that you wish to know then?" The intensity of her stare caused him to fidget, and he broke eye contact with her nervously.

"You know about my father. He's worried about money, but he's more worried about mother and the baby. I can see it when he thinks I'm not paying attention, and mother is worried about him too…" taking a breath to gather his nerves he looked right back into her blind eyes. "So I don't care about being a great knight or a fearless adventurer. I just want to know if my family will be ok, and I'd be happy." He answered, feeling lighter after the admission.

It was several moments before a slow, gentle smile spread across her lips.

"Such a gentle boy…" she pushed herself up, sitting upright on the bed and motioned at him with a wave of her hand. "Come here child, I will grant your request." He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in, and followed her instructions. He scooted up into the open space between her legs, sitting crisscross in front of her. She reached back into her hair, pulling out a golden pin with a sharp point. "Mila get the door. I will do a genuine reading for our young guest."

He saw Mila move out of the corner of her eye, but he was more focused on the sharp object in the old woman's hand. "Give me your finger Garrett." he did as told, and she quickly jabbed it. He let out a yelp but didn't flinch. Blood oozed slowly from his fingertip, Teresa dropped the pin and pinched his finger, drawing more blood. With her free hand she dabbed her own finger into the small pool, and started drawing intricate, unfamiliar letters onto his wrist, palm and fingers. If this was magic, it was magic he had never heard of before, or something his father never told him about. When she was finished she grabbed the pin and repeated the process on her own hand. When she was done, she clasped her bloodied hand on his wrist. "Grab my arm." His fingers twitched, but he stopped short, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

_Why am I doing this?_

"Do not be afraid, you are in no danger." He glanced over at Caleb, who was intently focused on his hands. This must have been new to him as well, as the normal smile was gone, replaced with a slightly opened mouth.

_Why did I listen to him? I don't even know him but I followed him anyway...I'm a moron..._

His stomach began twisting in knots, and he gulped to himself. He felt a weight on his shoulder, and Mila was sitting at his side, giving him an encouraging smile. Sucking in another breath, he stared back at his hand

_I'm doing it for mother and father…Father wouldn't be afraid. _His hand tightened around the crone's wrist, and he furrowed his brows_ I won't be afraid either._

She began to chant quietly, in a language he didn't recognize. He could feel the air around him grow warm, and his hand started tingling. Her chanting began to get louder until it was close to a shout, but did not go louder than that. His wrist felt prickly, and he swore he could hear another voice chanting along with the old woman, though she was the only one speaking.

_Father wouldn't be afraid. _Father wouldn't be afraid. _Father wouldn't be afraid.___ The mantra became his strength as she continued chanting

Suddenly she stopped speaking, and he felt…_something_ burst up his arm, through his heart, and into his head.

And suddenly, he could _see…_

…_**Two children stood in front of him, a boy and girl looking almost alike. The boy glared at him while the girl giggled at her brothers' expense…**_

…_**The girl lay on the ground, lifeless, her dead eyes staring straight into his soul. He felt himself breaking apart…**_

_**…**_**The swordsman flew across the ground, flung away by the powerful blow done to him by the red-haired woman. She moved to his side **protectively, readying her shield as more came for them..__

…_**A beardless dwarf smirked in triumph, holding out his hand to seal their new partnership…**_

…_**His brother looked pale, out of breath. He saw the pleading look in his eyes, but he was at a loss…**_

…_**The dark haired elven girl smiled kindly at him, always chattering away. But there was an underlying sadness hidden within her eyes.**_

…_**A ghostly hand punched through the chest of the mage in a spurt a blood, killing him instantly. Behind him, a white haired elf stood, his body glowing the same as his hand looking grimly at the man he slew, but nodded in thanks at him…**_

It became more clear now; almost like old memories resurfacing but from _where_...

…_**Anders stood beside him, casting spells with a focused discipline to his left, then in the next instant his body flared in the blue light of righteous anger, and he rampaged towards the Templars…**_

…_**He gently laid his mother's body back on the ground and got to his feet. He could see Quentin's corpse out of the corner of his eyes. In a flash of rage, he took Aveline's sword from her, charging at his body. It took all three of them to hold him back… **_

…_**Honey colored orbs stared back at him in gentle understanding, he felt her embrace and her lips on his… and he finally let go…**_

…_**He crashed into the wall, crying out in agony. The Arishock was quickly coming towards him, blades in hand. He reacted without thinking, and the Arishock was frozen in place, buying him precious moments to prepare himself… He saw Isabella struggling against the Qunari guards who held her at the sides, the rest of his friends watching as well. But he was only looking at Isabella. She looked like she wanted to murder something; probably him. She stopped struggling when she made eye contact with him, and the anger drained away. She was a master at hiding her emotions, but at that moment he could read her thoughts like an open book.**_

_**Her eyes glanced over his injuries, saw her anguish; 'Damn, bloody fool!'**_

_**She sees him reaching for a lyrium potion, confusion briefly flashes in her eyes; 'Why is he doing this?'**_

_**Hesitation, then anger again, and finally fear.**_

**_He downs the potion in two gulps, wincing slightly at the coppery taste and prepares another spell as the Arishock starts to break free from his frozen prison._**

**_He gives her one final look, hoping that maybe she can read his thoughts at this moment; he wasn't going to lose her now..._**

…_**He pauses, wondering if Anders' death would really be justice to those he hurt, the blade in his hand only getting heavier…**_

…_**He's in the Gallows, with his friends and a handful of mages to stand their ground. Carver stands on watch with Fenris as everyone else mentally prepares themselves for what is coming. He sits on the ground with Isabella; her fingers interlaced with his as she rested her head on his shoulder. He wasn't sure when everything spiraled of control, but what was done was down. But there was one thing he was damn sure of; that he was going to get everyone out of here. He had come too _**bloody**_ far to die here. Explosions from the gates jolted him from his thoughts; it had begun. His lips brushed over her forehead as they got to their feet. She threw her arms around him one last time before pulling away to draw her blades; melding into the deadly fighter that she was. He began chanting a spell as the first shouts rang out in the hall ahead of him.**_

_**He didn't start this mess but he was sure as hell going to finish it...**_

_**A pair of golden eyes shone brightly before him, whether they belonged to a man, woman, dragon, demon or god did not matter. He felt them pierce through his body, mind and soul, laying him bare against the elements…he was on the edge of a cliff, a flood of red mist rushing towards him from behind, a white fire burned brightly below, and the sky crackled with an unnatural green hue. He glanced back at the mist, seeing it rush towards him before he peered once more over the ledge. The fire was burning with an unholy fury, and he could feel the heat of the flames licking at him from this height. His foot slipped, and he took a cautious step back, but the eyes before him narrowed and he froze, feeling and hearing a thousand voices speak as one, guttural being, coming from all around him.**_

_**Do not hesitate to leap!**_

He gasped, breaking contact with Teresa. Everything that he saw was forgotten like a waking dream. But the confusion remained, wrapped around his chest like a thick blanket.

_What was that?_

Teresa seemed to be worse off than he was, still gasping for air. Mila was holding her shoulders in support. After several minutes Teresa calm down, and Mila grabbed a cup on the counter and put it to Teresa's lips. The old woman shook her head.

"Bring me the wine skin…No, the whiskey. I need something strong right now. And get a wet cloth." The younger woman complied, going to a chest next to the bed and pulled out a bottle filled with a clear, amber liquid. She went to find a cup, but Teresa snatched the bottle from her hand and popped the cork, taking two long gulps from it. She didn't so much as flinch when she put the bottle on the side desk. Mila went to him, washing away the blood on his hand with a warm cloth, and did the same with Teresa.

Teresa let out a sigh, then turned back to face him.

"I have seen your future Garrett, and you have nothing to fear about your family. They will be alright." He head swiveled back to Mila. "Bring Sonya and Malcolm Hawke here." She instructed. Mila left with a nod, quietly leaving the room. He felt a nude to his right, and Caleb was offering him a handful of cookies.

"You look like you need one." He said, offering a sympathetic smile.

He took them all and shoved them in his mouth, chewing quietly to himself. It was a small comfort, but a welcome one. He still wasn't sure what happened; everything he saw was a blur now. But if she said his parents were going to be fine, then he was ok with it. He glanced over at Teresa again, who reached for the cup of water instead of the whiskey bottle, downing its contents in a single gulp.

The door opened, both he and Caleb turned to see Mila walk in, followed by his father and Sonya. Sonya was a large boned woman, her dark brown hair greying with age. Just like Mila and Teresa she had piercings and jewelry adorning her face and hair; mostly on her nose and ears. She didn't seem too happy to be here with his father, and was openly glaring at Teresa.

His father noticed him on the bed, and immediately frowned. He gulped, but ended up in a coughing fit instead. Caleb smacked his back a couple times, helping him out. He gained his bearings again, then looked guilty at his father.

"_You_ are supposed to be in bed with your mother." He said flatly. His father always one who got straight to the point. He winced at his tone, and grabbed another cookie to nibble on.

"I got hungry…" He mumbled softly. His father rolled his eyes, running a hand through his short hair. He turned towards Teresa.

"I apologize if my son has troubled you." She waved a hand,

"It's quite alright. You have a good son. He isn't like most five year olds I know." She replied, pointing to Caleb. "I hear you've been asking Sonya about work on my caravan."

"More like pestering me endlessly." The other woman quipped, but his father took it in stride, and stood straighter.

"My wife is with child and we need to start saving money for when she gives birth."

"So I have been told. May I see your hands Malcolm?"

He saw his father's brows raise in question, but after a shrug of his shoulders, he walked up to the edge of the bed. He reached out and gently touched her hand; noticing that she was blind. At first he thought she was going to read his father's future as well, but instead she grasped his with both of her hands, running her thumbs along his palms. Her head craned up towards him, a grin on her face. "An apostate, hmm? Now I know why you are so desperate to our patronage."

Now that was amazing. That she could tell he was a mage just by touching his hand…she really was something else. His father must have thought the same thing, his eyes flashing with shock. But Teresa just continued to smile at him. "Fear not, two of my granddaughters have the gift as do I. Your secret is safe with us." She let go of his hand, leaning back into her pillows. "May I ask about your training?"

His father looked back and forth between his hand and her eyes, not sure what to think of her. But in the end he shifted his body so that his posture seemed more relaxed.

"My father taught me in the beginning. But while we were visiting Denerim he died of a plague outbreak when I was six, and it wasn't long after that the Templars caught me and put me in the circle." His father reached up and scratched at his unshaven face. "There was nothing for me to do but study an practice magic, and I excelled at both. They put me through the Harrowing when I was fourteen, around the time the mages were committed to Maric's rebellion; I think they wanted me to go out and fight, which is why they put me through so early. I passed, and saw an opportunity to escape and did so. And for the next seven years I was wandering Thedas with various mercenary groups, staying on the move. Then I met my wife, and we've been on the move since then; I took any job that would have me, but we stayed in Ferelden due to its weakened political state. It was easy to blend in and hide."

"And how did you escape from the Templars when they have your phylactery?" Teresa asked, offering him the chair next to her bed. He took it, letting out a heavy sigh.

"I destroyed my phylactery when I escaped." He replied, but he sounded old and tired; his eyes glazing over with unseen memories. "As I said, there was an opportunity and I took it." ending that line of questioning.

Teresa nodded, clasping her hands in her lap.

"Nothing comes without a price. Even freedom…" She reached out for her forgotten peach, but half way to grabbing it she changed her mind, flicking her fingers at Caleb expectantly. He giggled before handing her a cookie, and she took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "If I am to believe your words, you are quiet talented. Not many are proficient with the gift at such a young age."

"Magic has always been strong in my family; my ancestor even fought alongside Calanhad so that mages could be free. But you can see how that turned out."

"Indeed. But I am not one to waste an opportunity when I see it. It's not every day we get a circle trained mage without a Templar right behind him, holding a chamber pot ready to catch his shit a at moment's notice." He heard his father snort, which got a smile out of the old woman. She gestured towards Mila "I've had Mila teaching my granddaughter Lucca when she can, but between her lessons with me and caring for her son Lucca being neglected." Teresa took another bite of her cookie, grimacing. "She is a child, and the gift has made her headstrong and cocky. She throws caution to the wind, and I grow tired of her antics. Which finally brings me to my point." She straightened up, reaching for the whiskey and poured it into the now empty cup. "I am turning the caravan towards Ferelden instead of Orlais, and I want to hire you on as Lucca's mentor for the next three years."

The silence that followed was so nerve-wracking that he almost wanted to cough. _Almost_. It was entertaining to see his father hang his mouth open like a fish on the market. It was rare for him to be caught off guard. But he didn't have to say a word.

"This is news to me!" Sonya shouted angrily. "It's not like we've been planning this trip for the past year and a half not to mention the co-" Teresa's head snapped towards her, her own anger showing on her face.

"Emperor Florian has lost all respect of the nobility; he lost Ferelden, a dragon ravaged the southern half of his empire and now his health fails him. It won't be long before he is a corpse and his family begins fighting over his throne. Orlais will be unstable for the next five years or so, and I intend to keep _my_ caravan out of The Game until Celene takes the throne."

It looked as if Sonya was going to say more on the issue, but he noticed her eyes flash at the mention of Celene's name; she immediately calmed down.

"You have seen this?" she asked evenly, like she was never angry to begin with. It was strange to him, but when she asked that last question, he understood her compliance.

"I have." Teresa replied, her tone implying that that was to be the end of Sonya's argument. Letting out an annoyed sigh, Sonya threw her arms in the air, heading out the door.

"Alright, I'll let the others know the change of plans." Teresa let out an amused chuckle as Sonya left the room, then turned back towards his father.

"So do we have a deal Master Hawke? It's an even trade I think; our protection for your knowledge of magic."

His father finally shook out of his stupor, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but this all seems a little too easy." She chuckled again, taking a quick swig from her whiskey bottle.

"You've been hounding my daughter for days about a job; a woman who in the past has killed many a man for much less. I would not call that easy, but fortunate." He father grinned, reaching for the cup of whiskey.

"Yes, well can you really blame my skepticism?"

"I guess not." His father glanced towards him in amusement.

"My son wouldn't have anything to do with change of events now would he?" He recognized that tone, and shuffled behind Caleb in an attempt to shield himself from his father's eyes.

"I only met your son because my great-grandson likes to bring me his new friends. We travel constantly so he makes friends when he can." He felt her hand on his head, ruffling his hair gently. "He told me the same story I've heard from everyone else and you. He is only guilty of being a caring boy."

He felt himself heat up at the praise, and his father's warm smile made him beam with pride. He scratched his head in embarrassment, shyly smiling back at him.

"I see…" his father murmured softly before turning back at Teresa. "I wasn't expecting to stay on for three years. Just long enough so that I could afford a place for my wife to properly recover after giving birth to our second child."

"The caravan is run by three generations of Rivaini women. If there is one thing we know and pride ourselves on it is childbirth. Your wife could not be in better hands other than the Maker Himself." He father laughed aloud.

"You got me there…" he replied, staring at the whiskey in his cup "Three years then?" He asked once more. Teresa held out her bottle of whiskey towards him expectantly, a knowing smile on her face

Sighing in mock defeat, his father clanked his cup to her bottle. "You have a deal." They both took a drink, his father shuddered after swallowing the liquid while Teresa took it without complaint.

"We leave in two days' time at high noon. You will teach Lucca when we make camp each night and whenever you have the chance. How far along is your wife?" she asked, placing the bottle on the side desk.

"About two months, give or take."

"I will have some of my girls tend her as she gets farther along. That way you may focus on Lucca's studies. As for you son…" she smiled at him, then Caleb. "I'm sure Caleb will be able to keep him busy."

He grew excited, and he was sure Caleb was as well. Turning to him, Caleb was openly smiling and squirming in his seat. They were going to travel together. He was going to have a friend for more than a week. For the first time he was looking forward to traveling again. His father stood up, walking towards him.

"I appreciate it. But for now I think I should take my son to bed, before his mother discovers that he's missing and has a panic attack." He gestured towards him, and he got the message. He got up and climbed into his father's arms without a word. He was carried to the door before his father stopped and bowed slightly to the two women left. "I have no words to express how grateful I truly am. I will fulfill my end of our deal and more to pay back your kindness." Mila bowed back to him, while Teresa nodded.

"Sleep well Master Hawke. We'll discuss more in the morning."

They were partway down the hall when he felt his father ruffling his hair affectionately, ginning widely at him.

"I don't know what you did Garrett, but you got us a stable income and protection. You did good, son." He looked away shyly, but inwardly proud of himself. He had considered telling his father what happened with Teresa, but in the end it didn't really matter if he knew or not; he made a new friend, his father had a job, and his mother would be happy at their success.

"I only wanted a snack." He answered instead, which was true. He felt his father's chest rumble as he chuckled, opening the door to their room.

"I'll give you all the snacks you and your mother crave tomorrow. Right now I want to sleep, that old woman has an amazing tolerance for liquor, and I'm feeling quite tired." He scrunched his nose in confusion

"She didn't have a problem with it."

"That's because Rivaini are on a whole other level, son."

"How come?"

"I'll tell you when you're older…"

* * *

><p>When Malcolm left the room, she saw her grandmother turn to her son.<p>

"Go to your room Caleb. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow and you'll need to introduce your new friend to everyone." She heard her say. At the mention of Garrett his eyes lit up, and he nodded excitedly. He climbed up and kissed her cheek, then came to her and did the same. She kissed his forehead, smiling in turn; she was happy that her son would have a more permanent playmate his age. She watched as he scampered out of the room, ducking around her mother as she entered. Her mother closed the door when he was down the hall, then moved over to sit next to Teresa on the bed, as she herself sat on the chair.

"So are you going to tell me exactly why we are going to Ferelden instead of Orlais? We're losing a _lot_ of sovereigns over this." She couldn't help the wince, knowing the tone in her voice; it meant that there would be another argument soon. Her grandmother sat back into her pillows, getting comfortable.

"I had a vision." She stated plainly.

Her grandmother had been trained as a seer since she was a little girl, and as she grew older and traveled the land she honed her abilities to a point that she was highly famous in Llomerynn. Her predictions were accurate, she was never wrong; but it was when she had her visions that the people would truly listen to her words. They said she was Fade blessed: the spirits headed her calls and answered. She was the heir to her family's teachings, and had been training under her since she was a child. She would spend her waking moments with her learning the arts and her slumbering ones listening in the fade. She more knew her more than anyone in the family, but there were still times that she would never understand what her grandmother was thinking.

The prime example being the boy Garrett; Caleb brought children to her all the time and she would read their palms to entertain them. He had few friends outside the family, and he always wanted to show off to them. A palm reading was sufficient and harmless fun for everyone. But she did an actual reading for Garrett…and immediately hired his father on for three years afterwards without a second thought.

_What did she see?_

Her mother raised a brow at the terse reply.

"You had a vision about Malcolm?"

"No, of his son Garrett. Caleb brought him in for a reading, and out of curiosity I decided to see his future. And what I saw was…" she glanced at the fire across the room, shuddering.

That was unexpected. In all her life she never seen her grandmother be unhinged by her visions; she always remained indifferent about them, knowing that there was nothing that could be done to change it. "I know better than anyone that there is a set course; I can't the future or his role in it, but I can give him the stability that he needs right now." She reached for the bottle again, taking a swig from it then passing it to her mother. "I did not hire Malcolm for Lucca's sake; she's a smart girl who knows the risks. I hired him for Garrett's sake. They don't know it yet but he has the gift, and it will awaken soon."

"You hired him so that he could train his son then?"

"I did. Lucca will be a good partner for him and someone to learn alongside with. She won't be happy about it, but it will benefit her as much as it will for Garrett."

Her mother looked to her, seeking her opinion on the matter; she did not possess the gift, but growing up with her grandmother meant that she knew all the benefits and risks that came with it. She shrugged back at her, unsure what to say. This sudden change was confusing to her as well.

"You go this far for a boy you just met over his vision?" Sonya asked, then took a drink from the bottle. "You've had visions before and were content to let them come to pass, why the sudden change now?"

She felt her wrist tighten, and saw that her grandmother had a hold of both her and her mother's arm. She may have been blind for the last fifteen years, but the desperation shown through with ease. "I know everything I need to know about that boy…and I saw eyes I never thought to see again involved in his future…" her grip tightened, and she pulled herself closer to the both of them. "I can do nothing to help the poor boy, not when she is involved, except for this." Her eyes shone with unshed tears and she faced her mother "Please, let me do this. Do not ask what I saw this time, but let me help this child." She pleaded desperately to her mother.

Her mother was as shocked as she was. Never before did Teresa, Seer of Rivain, The Fade Blessed lose her composure. Her mother leaned forward, gently embracing her grandmother, and she followed suit.

"Mother..."

"It must have been terrible…" She whispered softly

"Long have these events been in motion…how I did not see it I can't answer that. My heart goes out to his him and his family…but they are the hammer that will shape the blade." She broke away, suddenly looking like the woman she was before. Her eyes piercing both hers and her mothers with fierceness gained from their way of living. "Not a word to anyone about this. Am I clear? This is one vision that none will know save for the three of us." they both nodded, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "Swear it!"

"We swear." They said as one. Content, she leaned back into her pillows.

"Good. Now leave me, I need my rest."

They both stood, quietly leaving the room. Once they were in the hallway, her mother drank the rest of the whiskey quickly. Letting out a tired sigh before she turned to face her.

"Do you know what she meant by 'the eyes'? I may not have the gift but I can see when my own mother is unhinged by something, and she when she mentioned the eyes...She was angry and terrified at the same time." Her mother said quietly. She began thinking back through all of her lessons with her grandmother, remembering a minor incident.

"There was a lesson years ago in the fade…a demon came to us and tried to tempt us. It started with me taking the shapes of my desires; but her constant interrupting, pointing out its flaws and openly mocking it enraged it. It suddenly took a shape of a woman I did not recognize." She crossed her arms, trying to further recall more details. "She was an older woman, skin pale as snow, as was her hair, dressed in dirty rags. I can't recall what the demon said, as the words were only meant for her, but then the demons eyes changed to gold…" she looked back at her mother shaking her head. "She didn't say anything for several moments, but suddenly she unleashed a spell, destroying it instantly. Then she went back to lecturing me as if nothing happened."

Her mother let out another sigh.

"Something from her past then…"

"Some_one_ from her past. But that's all it is. We won't get any answers from her now."

"Right…" her mother began walking down the hall towards the commons "There's nothing I can do for her, so I'll do what I do best: running this damn caravan." Her mother glanced back over her shoulder back at her. "If she suddenly decides to confide in you about anything you tell me immediately."

"Of course. Goodnight mother." She waved back over her shoulder as she rounded the corner disappearing from sight.

She let out a heavy sigh, leaning against the door frame. Whatever that vision was about, it did not bode well for anyone. Her grandmother was concerned for the boy yes, but it was what Garrett would be involved with that frightened her. Change was coming; knowing it was coming but not know what it is…she did not know which was the worse thought.

* * *

><p>And that concludes part 1<p>

Fun stuff: When I was thinking about Teresa's character and how she would act I thought about Flemeth and her many daughters. I remember hearing about how other nations had their own versions of a witch of the wilds that were descended from Flemeth's daughter and was going to use that. nut then I had the fun thought of "What if Morrigan ran away while she was in her early teens" moment. And I basically took thought and pinned it on Teresa, she was raised by Flemeth for a period of time before running away, and always stayed on the move, as if she were constantly running away form her.

As for Hawke's vision of his own future, I had originally intended for only the seer to see his future, but i liked the idea of them sharing the vision together, then only the seer would remember what they had seen after the ritual was over. That way it would keep to the storyline.

Thank you for your patronage, I hope you enjoyed this read.


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